


An Unexpected Talent

by Million_Moments



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang discover Richard as an unexpected, and unusual talent. Though he claims everything to be a combination of logic and luck, soon he is in demand of a certain group of women on the island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Talent

**Author's Note:**

> To Willowsticks, and Oxytocin!

“Excuse me?” A gently accented voice floated towards him.

Richard was hunched over his files but he looked up at the query, and found himself face to…well, facing a large round mass, with a brightly coloured shirt stretched over it, buttons threating to pop. His eyes continued upwards, pausing and then quickly skipping over the impressive bust that was resting on top of the bump. He prayed he wasn’t blushing as his eyes finally reached the eyes of a very tall and very pregnant Afro-Caribbean.

“I hope I am not disturbing you?” Richard had trouble believing such a meek voice came from such an Amazon. She had very delicate eyebrows, Richard noted, and intricate beads in her cornrows.

He remembered he was supposed to speak, “Of course not!” He said, jumping to his feet. Camille, who had been out fetching his banana sandwich, returned at that moment. She gave him an enquiring look but Richard had no clue what was going on so couldn’t enlighten her further. “Um,” Richard said. His eyes slid back to the bump. Camille gave a little cough, drawing his attention, and nodded towards the chair. “Yes, you should sit down! Right now! Sit!”

Those delicate eyebrows raised, eyes going wide. She took half a step back. Camille gave a little shake of her head. Richard took a breath and tried again, “Please, would you like a seat?” He walked around and pulled it out for her.

“Thank you, yes,” she accepted.

“You really don’t want to be on your feet at this stage of the pregnancy,” Richard quipped as he half-skipped back round to his desk. “Looking at the size of you I assume you’ll pop any day now! You are really…massive…it’ll be a relief I imagine.”

The woman blinked. Then her eyes knitted together. Somehow, this made her seem much more aggressive…much more like the Amazon he had mentally compared her to moments before. And when she spoke, it wasn’t soft or meek anymore. It was biting, “Actually, I have an entire month to go.”

Camille gave a little cough, which Richard was sure was to hide a laugh. He should apologise. He should apologise and ask her how he could be of assistance, change the subject quickly and get himself back into the realm of police work. But instead he went, “Really? Are you quite sure?”

“Yes,” she spat back. “Unless you are questioning the competency of my midwife? Perhaps British police officers know better in these things then those specifically trained?”

“That isn’t what Detective Inspector Poole was saying,” Camille piped up, rising from her desk. She had clearly decided to intervene as she had been forced to on so many other occasions. Largely with women. Richard would never understand women. “And he is sorry for any offense caused, aren’t you Inspector Poole?” She paused, during which Richard managed a nod. “Perhaps I could get you a cool drink, Madam?”

“Oh please, that would be lovely.” The smile returned to the visitors face.

“My mother always says,” Camille continued as she fetched water – Richard’s ice water but there was no way he was going to comment – from the fridge and poured a glass. “That there is no woman so beautiful as a heavily pregnant women. They represent the miracle of life. And my mother is _always_ right,” she added with a smile. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What was beautiful about waddling? Or panting. The times he had given up his seat to pregnant women on the tube, they had always seemed to be panting in the most concerning manner – even though he knew it was a normal part of pregnancy.

“I can think of a long list of times your mother was thoroughly wrong…” Richard began, unable to help himself. Then, under the glare of two women, retreated and added tactfully, “Though this is of course not necessarily one of them…” Why did he have to add the ‘not necessarily’? What was wrong with him?

“How about a banana sandwich?” Camille offered quickly, as if she was trying to cover up for his continued mistakes. Richard watched in dismay as she passed the carefully wrapped package to the still unidentified woman that contained his lunch. It distracted her, yes, but it was also probably designed to punish him. “I’m Camille Bordey by the way,” she said, offering a hand.

“Aruba Poher,” she replied. Richard automatically made a quick note on his pad. “I lost my phone,” she said between bites of his lunch. “I just stopped by to see if anyone had handed it in.”

“I will just go check for you,” Camille said, pushing herself off the desk and going to rummage through the box in the back room where all the handed in items when. “Make and model?” She called over her shoulder. Mrs…or Miss, he supposed, Poher told Camille before turning back to Richard. She avoided his eyes, instead fiddling with the buttons that threatened to pop.

“Quite a climb up the steps in your condition,” Richard said, attempting to make conversation. “And in this heat.”

“Yes, though these past couple of days I have not been puffing as much as I was before. I feel like the baby has shifted and I can breathe again.”

“Oh,” Richard said, his curiosity piqued. He couldn’t help himself. “You know,” he said. “Nine months is just the average. Some babies they just grow faster. I mean fundal height is definitely measuring over 40 cm now…If you go into labour tomorrow I am sure it is just because the baby is ready to arrive.”

Aruba rose from her seat. Well she tried to, it took her several attempts. Richard half stood, thinking he might have to help haul her out. “I told you I am not due for another 4 weeks! Yes, I have a big bump, but _WHY ARE YOU STARING AT IT_! It is hard enough getting by at this stage without comments from complete strangers!”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel ginormous,” Richard protested.

“GINORMOUS?”

Camille appeared again at that, but it was too late, the woman was off waddling at surprising speed towards the door, so offended her phone query was forgotten.

“I just don’t want you to be alarmed if you go into labour tomorrow!” Richard called after her.

“Richard Poole! What is _wrong_ with you? I have never met such a rude, ignorant…I…I don’t even have enough words! I can’t not believe you were so insensitive, have you had _no_ sensitivity training in your life? Or even common sense – pregnant women are naturally sensitive about their size, SO DON’T COMMENT ON IT! I can’t believe you called her ginormous!”

It was the sort of telling off he usually only received from his mother…or from Camille’s mother. Richard felt rather defensive though. “Hey, I _did not_ call her ginormous. I said I _wasn’t_ trying to make her feel like that!”

“And so implying that she was, in fact, ginormous!” She spat straight back.

Richard crossed his arms and just gave her a sullen look. “Well she _was_ rather,” he said, eventually. “There is no way she is carrying to full term.”

“Oh like you’re such an expert,” Camille settled back behind her own desk, unwrapping her choice of baguette. It looked like chicken and…mango? Richard’s stomach growled, reminding him he also required lunch.

“Don’t suppose there is a chance of another banana sandwich?” He enquired, standing on his toes to look into Camille’s bag.

“Not unless you go get it yourself,” she replied, flicking through a magazine. It was her lunchbreak after all.

With a sigh, Richard went to do just that.

 

* * *

 

 

_Two days later_

“I am meeting Juliet for lunch,” Fidel said as the sun rose to its zenith and Richard sweated miserably. The fan was broken again.

“Well don’t bring her back here,” Camille cautioned.

“Yup, don’t want the Chief to make her cry,” Dwayne added. Camille had naturally shared the story as soon as the two had come back from patrol.

“Are you _still_ going on about that, you two weren’t even there!” He waved his finger between them. “You’re just taking her word for it about what happened.” He paused, then added, “And there were no tears as far as I saw!”

“Come on, Chief, it did sound like something you would say,” Dwayne told him.

“Yes, and I _did_ say all of those things, but without the context…oh, whatever, I give up.” He threw a screwed up ball of paper into the wastebasket, the heat having caused him to make a third mistake on the blasted thing. “Though I have learnt my lesson. Say nothing about their bump to pregnant women. Though Juliet is only what, 14 weeks?” He paused, and Fidel nodded. “She probably has no bump to speak of.”

“Actually it is quite big…you often have no stomach muscles the second time so there is nothing to hold it in.” Fidel paused and considered what he had just said. “Though whatever you do don’t tell _her_ I said that…”

Dwayne harrumphed, amused by the younger man’s _faux pas._ He opened his mouth to respond, probably to demand bribery in return for silence, but instead what emerged was the cry of a tiny baby. Richard blinked and shook his head, certain he must have misheard. But no, it was there, though not from Dwayne who had now shut his mouth – but from the doorway where Aruba Poher stood, carrying her child in her arms.

Fidel looked between Camille and Richard’s surprised faces and clearly really wanted to stay to see how this worked out, but (fearing the wrath of his wife if he was late) instead awkwardly shuffled out of the station muttering “excuse me” as he manoeuvred past Mrs…Miss…Poher in the doorway.

“Ah…” Richard still didn’t know her title, so he went for something more generic. “Ah, Madam, I am afraid we didn’t have your phone and nobody has handed it in since.”

“Please, call me Aruba,” she offered, her tall form stepping fully into the office. “And don’t concern yourself with the phone, I had left it in a café and the owner got it back to me through my husband.”

“Well then, um, is there anything else I can help you with?” Richard pulled out a chair, not requiring a hint this time from Camille. He gave the child a suspicious look, the last newborn he had encountered had been sickened by his very presence. Though Rosie had later been sick on Dwayne, so perhaps it hadn’t been personal. Aruba accepted the seat. Behind her, Richard noted Camille give a small nod of approval.

“I actually came to apologise to you,” she said, shocking Richard. He really wanted to say there was nothing to apologise for, but that arrogant part of him (the part that Camille was always criticising him) wouldn’t let him. It was pretty damn evident that he had been right, after all. “I went into labour the day after I met you and delivered this healthy little boy, I hadn’t realised you had…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “A special…talent.”

“I…um…well,” Richard stuttered.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain it. It’s a very special gift you have.”

“Oh yes,” Camille piped up, drawing Aruba’s attention. “The Inspector has many gifts.” Aruba didn’t seem to notice this was sarcasm, a skill Richard swears Camille picked up from him. But Richard knew it was sarcasm and glowered at Camille accordingly.

“Oh yes,” Dwayne nodded emphatically. “Many special and unexpected talents.”

“Really?” Aruba said. “What other talents do you have?”

Richard, slightly panicked, replied with, “I, um, solve crimes?”

“Oh?” She said, rearranging the child and leaning forward. “You use your talents to help solve crimes as well? How wonderful!”

“Er…yes.” Richard was now thoroughly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Well I hope you don’t mind, but I text a few women from my antenatal group to let them know. They may come seek your…advice concerning their own due dates.”

Richard blinked. He wanted to explode, but the sight of the peacefully sleeping baby prevented him. Instead he just swallowed hard, nodded tightly and prayed none of them turned up. “Anyway,” Aruba continued. “I should be on my way. This little man needs to be introduced to his grandparents.” Richard fought hard to keep the surprise off his face that Aruba has brought the child to see him before his own grandparents. Behind him, Camille and Dwayne were less successful, though they schooled their features quickly when Aruba stood and turned around.

“Good day to you, Inspector,” Aruba says. “And again, my apologies for not realising you were trying to give me advice rather than insult me. It was kind of you, you truly are talented.”

Richard watched her walk out the door, keeping a blank look on his face in case Aruba should turn around. As soon as he heard her footsteps on the stairs he turned in horror to his colleagues. “Did she say she was sending her friends to see me?”

“Never mind that…” Camille started but Richard didn’t let her get far.

“What do you mean, _never mind that_?” He cried. “She basically just told me a line of pregnant women are going to turn up at this station seeking to use what she seemed to think was some kind of…of….SUPERNATURAL TALENT! I HAVE CRIMES TO SOLVE!”

Dwayne and Camille shared a look. Dwayne cleared his throat and said, “So…it isn’t a…” he lowered his voice just as Aruba had done minutes before, “ _supernatural talent_.” Richard just glared at him. “What?” He said, defensive. “That woman wasn’t due to FOUR WEEKS! How did you know she would give birth the next day if you don’t have a special talent?”

“I mean, perhaps _that_ is why he has always derided all the supernatural beliefs of the island,” Camille pitched. “Because he knows what true supernatural talent is, he knows when babies will be born!”

“I DO NOT HAVE A SUPERNATURAL TALENT” He roared.

“Then how did you know?” Camille shot straight back, and Richard knew he was defeated, he would have to explain himself.

He took a few short breathes, trying to think of his response, before grunting, “Research.”

“Research?” Dwayne and Camille repeated at the same time. They shared a quick smile at the action.

“Research,” Richard repeated. “And thanks to that research, I knew Mrs Poher was measuring well over 40cm by eye, plus she had mentioned how she could breathe better which occurs when the baby engages, shifts downwards, relieving pressure on the lungs.”

“And why were you researching…due dates?” Camille prompted.

He let out another short, sharp sigh. “I had a suspect who was pregnant, 37 weeks. I was sure she had killed her past two husbands, but I didn’t have all the evidence yet. She knew I was on to her and would have absconded to Ireland as soon as she had given birth. I did loads of reading to estimate when she might actually give birth…and thus how much time I had to get my evidence.” This explanation was met by a stony silence. “What?”

“You wanted to make sure you were able to arrest a heavily pregnant woman?” Camille asked.

“Oh,” Richard said. “You would have preferred I left the baby in the care of a woman who had killed two men, one of them being the father of the child?”

They had no response to that.

 


End file.
